We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Have Always Lived in the Castle Plot Summary

Introduction

"My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf." With these haunting opening words, we enter a world both ordinary and strange, familiar yet unsettling. This is a tale of two sisters living in isolation, hidden away in their family home at the edge of a hostile village. The narrator, Merricat, ventures into the village twice weekly for supplies, enduring taunts and whispers about a tragedy that befell her family six years earlier. The townspeople's hatred is palpable, yet the true nature of the past events remains shrouded in mystery. The genius of this gothic masterpiece lies in its exploration of isolation, persecution, and the fragile sanctuary of home. Through Merricat's peculiar, childlike voice, we witness how the sisters have constructed an elaborate system of magical thinking and protective rituals to preserve their sheltered existence. As the narrative unfolds, we confront profound questions about human nature: What drives communities to ostracize those who are different? How do the persecuted create meaning and purpose when rejected by society? The answers are neither simple nor comfortable, but in examining the twisted roots of fear and prejudice, we gain insight into the lengths to which people will go to protect what they love.

Chapter 1: The Village and the Outcasts

The village harbors a deep, inexplicable hatred for the Blackwood family. Every Tuesday and Friday, eighteen-year-old Mary Katherine Blackwood—Merricat—must venture into this hostile territory for supplies. As she walks through the village, she endures the cruel rhymes children sing about her family: "Merricat, said Connie, would you like a cup of tea? Oh no, said Merricat, you'll poison me." The villagers stare, whisper, and sometimes openly mock her. Inside the grocery store, mothers pull their children away from her as if she carries disease. At Stella's coffee shop, conversations halt when she enters. These excursions are torturous for Merricat, who fantasizes about the villagers dying in agony. Back home, Merricat lives with her older sister Constance and their elderly Uncle Julian. Their large house stands isolated behind locked gates at the end of a private path. Six years earlier, a terrible tragedy occurred—the rest of the Blackwood family died of arsenic poisoning during dinner. Constance, who prepared the meal but didn't eat the poisoned sugar herself, was tried for murder but acquitted. Uncle Julian, who survived with permanent damage to his health, obsessively documents the details of that fatal day, planning to write a definitive account of the poisoning. The three survivors live in careful routine, with Constance never leaving the property. She cooks, gardens, and tends to Uncle Julian, while Merricat performs protective rituals—burying treasured objects, nailing items to trees, and reciting "magic words"—to keep them safe from outsiders. Their existence is ordered and predictable, with specific activities assigned to each day of the week. The sisters share a deep bond, frequently expressing their love for each other. Despite their isolation, a few village residents still visit occasionally—most notably Helen Clarke, who comes for tea on Fridays. During one such visit, Helen suggests that after six years of seclusion, it's time for Constance to "come back into the world." This seemingly innocent suggestion creates the first ripple in the still waters of the Blackwoods' existence. For the first time, Constance appears to consider the possibility of change, filling Merricat with anxiety and dread. The balance of their carefully constructed life begins to shift. Merricat notices Constance looking down the driveway with curiosity, as if wondering what lies beyond. Disturbing omens appear—a book Merricat had nailed to a tree for protection falls down. Most alarming of all, Constance begins questioning whether their isolated existence is healthy. "I never realized until lately how wrong I was to let you and Uncle Julian hide here with me," she tells Merricat. "We should have faced the world." These subtle shifts set the stage for the arrival of a threat that will test the foundations of their sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Constance and Merricat's Isolated Existence

The Blackwood sisters live in a world entirely of their own making. Their sprawling house exists as a sanctuary against the hostile village, with most rooms kept pristine but unused. They occupy primarily the kitchen, back bedrooms, and garden areas, living according to rigid routines established after the family tragedy. The front of the house remains turned toward the village as an unwelcoming facade, while they go about their peaceful existence behind it. Their kitchen shelves are stocked with preserves made by generations of Blackwood women—jams, jellies, and vegetables in jewel-colored jars that Constance calls "a poem by the Blackwood women." Merricat, despite being eighteen, has a childlike perspective. She creates elaborate fantasy worlds, frequently imagining life "on the moon" where she and Constance would be safe from all intrusion. She assigns magical properties to ordinary objects and follows superstitious rituals to protect their home. "I had always buried things," she explains, describing how she quartered the long field and buried treasures in each section to make the grass grow higher as she grew taller. She believes these buried objects form "a powerful taut web which never loosened, but held fast to guard us." Constance, approximately twenty-eight, serves as both sister and mother figure to Merricat. She never leaves the property, not even venturing as far as the gate. Her world centers around cooking, gardening, and caring for Uncle Julian, whose health deteriorates steadily. Despite being confined to their property, Constance maintains meticulous standards—washing windows, polishing silver, and preserving food from her garden. Uncle Julian describes her as having "a gifted touch," her delicate nature a stark contrast to the violent events that defined their family history. The sisters maintain some connection to outside society through a handful of visitors. Helen Clarke takes tea with them on Fridays, and occasionally Mrs. Shepherd, Mrs. Rice or Mrs. Crowley stops by after Sunday church services. These visitors treat the sisters with a peculiar mix of duty, curiosity, and caution. They never use the path that villagers once took through Blackwood property, entering only by the proper front entrance and never venturing beyond prescribed areas. When they leave, these visitors invariably inquire, "How are you getting along?" as if perpetually surprised to find the sisters surviving. Uncle Julian adds another layer to their strange household. Half-senile and physically feeble, he constantly revisits the day of the poisoning, recounting details to anyone who will listen. "It was my life work," he explains proudly to a horrified visitor, calling the tragedy "one of the few genuine mysteries of our time." Through his ramblings, we learn that arsenic was put in the sugar bowl at a family dinner six years ago, killing Merricat's parents, her brother Thomas, and Uncle Julian's wife Dorothy. Only Uncle Julian survived, though permanently damaged, while Constance—who prepared the meal but used no sugar—was tried and acquitted. Merricat, twelve at the time, was not at the table, having been sent to bed without dinner as punishment for some misbehavior.

Chapter 3: Charles's Arrival Disrupts the Delicate Balance

The fragile equilibrium of the Blackwoods' existence shatters with the arrival of Cousin Charles Blackwood. After a rainstorm, Merricat returns to the house to find this stranger sitting in her chair at the kitchen table. Charles, their father's nephew, explains that his own father has recently died, freeing him to visit his cousins and "help" them. Tall and imposing with a face disturbingly similar to their late father's, Charles immediately claims their father's bedroom, begins wearing his clothing and jewelry, and positions himself as the new man of the house. Merricat recognizes Charles as a threat immediately. She sees him as "a ghost and a demon," an intruder who has breached their protective isolation. When she directly asks him to leave, he laughs at her, saying, "I wonder who will still be here a month from now? You or me?" Merricat responds by attempting to drive him away through magical means—smashing mirrors, putting dirt and broken sticks in his bed, and nailing their father's watch chain to a tree. Charles dismisses these actions as childish pranks, further alienating Merricat by calling her "crazy" and suggesting to Constance that she needs discipline. Most disturbing to Merricat is Constance's acceptance of Charles. For the first time, Constance seems receptive to the outside world, listening to Charles's suggestions that she should "come back into society." She begins questioning their isolated existence, telling Merricat, "I've been hiding here... I've let you run wild." Charles encourages these doubts, treating Uncle Julian with contempt and suggesting he belongs in a hospital. When he discovers Merricat's buried box of silver dollars, Charles becomes outraged, demanding to know if she has "buried thousands of dollars all over, where we'll never find it." Charles's true motivations become increasingly transparent. He inquires about their father's safe, asks to examine his papers, and shows particular interest in the family's finances. Uncle Julian, in a moment of clarity, says bluntly, "He is dishonest. His father was dishonest. Both my brothers were dishonest." Charles's presence creates a wedge between the sisters for the first time. Constance defends him against Merricat's hostility, telling her sister, "Charles is not a bad man." When Merricat continues her resistance, Constance grows frustrated, asking, "Don't you ever want to leave here, Merricat?" As tensions escalate, Uncle Julian's health deteriorates. Charles becomes increasingly domineering, criticizing the sisters' lifestyle and pushing for changes. Merricat feels her world collapsing as Charles systematically dismantles the protective barriers she has created. The magical words she chose for protection—"melody," "Gloucester," and "pegasus"—prove ineffective against his intrusion. With mounting desperation, she realizes more drastic measures will be necessary to restore their peaceful existence and expel the unwelcome cousin who threatens to take Constance away from her.

Chapter 4: The Truth About the Poisoning

The mystery at the heart of the Blackwood family tragedy gradually emerges through fragments of conversation, Uncle Julian's rambling recollections, and subtle revelations between the sisters. Uncle Julian obsessively documents every detail of "the last day," describing the family breakfast, the morning activities in the garden, and finally, the fatal dinner where arsenic-laced sugar was sprinkled on blackberries for dessert. While Constance was accused of the poisoning—she prepared the meal and, suspiciously, washed the sugar bowl before police arrived—she was ultimately acquitted at trial. What remains ambiguous to outsiders becomes startlingly clear in a moment of crisis. After the villagers attack and partially burn the Blackwood home, Constance and Merricat hide in the woods. In their distress, they speak openly about the past for the first time in six years. Merricat declares she will "put death in their food and watch them die," and Constance responds, "The way you did before?" This brief exchange confirms what careful readers might have suspected: it was twelve-year-old Merricat, not Constance, who poisoned the family. The revelation casts new light on Merricat's earlier behaviors and comments. Her detailed knowledge of poisons, her casual references to deadly mushrooms, her obsession with protective magic—all stem from her violent act and fear of discovery. Constance, we now understand, has been protecting her younger sister all along. When asked why she washed the sugar bowl, Constance claimed there was a spider in it, but the real reason was to remove evidence that might implicate Merricat. Constance accepted the village's hatred and isolation rather than reveal the truth. Uncle Julian unknowingly provides insight into why Merricat might have committed such an act. He mentions that Merricat was "a wicked, disobedient child" frequently punished by her father. On the fatal day, she had been sent to bed without dinner—a punishment her parents apparently used often. In one of Merricat's fantasies, she imagines her parents saying, "Mary Katherine should have anything she wants... Mary Katherine is never to be punished." This suggests years of mistreatment that culminated in her murderous response. Constance's complicity raises complex moral questions. She knew Merricat was responsible yet protected her, perhaps understanding the abuse that drove her sister to such extremes. Their isolation became both punishment and refuge—Constance's self-imposed penance for failing to prevent the tragedy and her means of protecting Merricat from consequences. The sisters' deep bond transcends conventional morality; they have created their own ethical universe where loyalty to each other outweighs all other considerations. The revelation of Merricat as the poisoner transforms our understanding of the sisters' relationship and their isolation. What seemed like Constance's fear of the outside world now appears as a deliberate choice to create a safe haven for her damaged sister. Their seclusion is not merely a response to village hostility but a necessary condition for preserving their unconventional family unit in the aftermath of violence.

Chapter 5: The Fire and Destruction

On Thursday, Merricat's "most powerful day," the precarious balance holding the Blackwood household together finally collapses. While Charles is away in the village, Merricat systematically destroys his room, replacing his belongings with sticks, stones, and broken glass. When Charles discovers the vandalism, he confronts Merricat in a rage. The conflict escalates when he discovers his pipe has started a fire in the bedroom. Charles runs to the village for help, shrieking "Fire!" and setting in motion events that will forever change the sisters' lives. The village fire department arrives quickly, but their presence brings unwelcome attention. A crowd gathers, watching as firefighters enter the Blackwood home. Constance and Merricat hide on the vine-covered porch, hoping to remain unseen until everyone leaves. The fire is soon extinguished, but rather than departing, the villagers grow increasingly bold. When fire chief Jim Donell removes his helmet and deliberately throws a rock through one of the drawing room windows, it triggers a wave of destruction. The crowd surges forward, entering the house and systematically destroying everything inside. The scene becomes a nightmarish carnival of violence. Furniture is smashed, dishes broken, heirlooms trampled. Children and adults alike participate in the frenzy, chanting the cruel rhyme about poisoned tea as they vandalize the house: "Merricat, said Constance, would you like a cup of tea? Oh no, said Merricat, you'll poison me." Constance hides her face behind Uncle Julian's shawl while the sisters try desperately to escape, but the crowd surrounds them, taunting and blocking their path. The destruction seems to release years of suppressed hatred and fear. The chaos only subsides when Jim Clarke, Helen Clarke's husband, arrives and announces that Uncle Julian has died. The crowd disperses reluctantly, some still eyeing the sisters with suspicion. In the sudden quiet, Merricat and Constance slip away into the woods. There, in Merricat's secret hiding place by the creek, they spend the night huddled together under leaves and branches. It is here, in their moment of greatest vulnerability, that they speak openly about the poisoning for the first time, confirming Merricat's guilt and Constance's knowledge of it. The fire marks the death of Uncle Julian and the destruction of their home as they knew it. The upper stories are burned away, the interior ransacked. Yet amid this devastation is a strange kind of liberation. The attack has forced into the open all that remained hidden. Uncle Julian, who kept the past alive through his obsessive documentation, is gone. The beautiful rooms Constance maintained so carefully are ruined. Even the truth about the poisoning has been acknowledged between the sisters. The fire burns away their old life, creating space for something new to emerge from the ashes.

Chapter 6: A New Life Behind Boarded Windows

In the aftermath of destruction, Constance and Merricat begin to create a new existence within the ruins of their home. The upper stories are gone, burned away to expose the sky, but the kitchen remains intact. They clean what can be salvaged, sweeping broken glass and dishes into the dining room, which they close off permanently. They board up windows, nail cardboard over the kitchen door's glass panel, and create barricades along the sides of the house using broken furniture. Their world contracts to the kitchen and what remains of the hall, with Uncle Julian's empty room standing as a silent memorial. Their clothing has been destroyed in the fire, so they adapt creatively. Merricat fashions a garment from a red and white checked tablecloth with a gold tassel cord as a belt, while Constance wears Uncle Julian's shirts. They survive on food from Constance's garden and the preserves stored in the cellar—the one part of the house the villagers never discovered. Their new life takes on a dreamlike quality as they establish fresh routines within their altered reality. Remarkably, the village's attitude undergoes a subtle transformation. Where once there was open hostility, now there is a strange mix of guilt, fear, and superstition. Every evening, baskets of food appear on their doorstep—roasted chickens, homemade bread, pies, and cookies—left by villagers who come in darkness so as not to be recognized by their neighbors. Occasionally these offerings include notes of apology: "Sorry for your harp" or "This is for the dishes." The sisters retrieve these gifts after dark, careful never to be seen. The Blackwood property becomes the subject of legend. Parents warn their children to stay away from "the ladies" who might poison them. Teenagers dare each other to approach the house. Bicyclists and hikers passing on what was once the private Blackwood path glance nervously at the vine-covered ruin. To outsiders, the house appears abandoned, overgrown with vegetation that hides the fire damage. Few suspect that the sisters still live within, watching the world through narrow peepholes in their boarded windows. When Helen Clarke makes one final attempt to rescue them, offering shelter in her home, the sisters hide silently until she leaves. Charles returns once more, hoping to convince a journalist that he can persuade the sisters to appear for a photograph, but they remain hidden, laughing silently at his transparent schemes. No outsider will ever enter their sanctuary again. In the final scene, Merricat reflects on their strange new life: "I am so happy," Constance tells her, and Merricat replies, "I told you that you would like it on the moon." They have created their own mythology, becoming creatures of darkness in village folklore. "The poor strangers," Merricat says with genuine pity, "they have so much to be afraid of." The sisters have found freedom in their isolation, turning rejection into a form of power. Behind their boarded windows, they have created a world entirely their own—beyond society's reach, beyond judgment, beyond time itself.

Summary

At its core, this tale presents a profound meditation on what it means to be truly isolated—both by choice and by circumstance. The Blackwood sisters create their own reality within the confines of their damaged home, transforming what others might see as imprisonment into a form of liberation. Their withdrawal from society becomes not merely a reaction to persecution but an affirmative choice, a reclaiming of power. What seems like madness to the outside world is, for them, the only rational response to a society that has rejected them. The boarded windows and barricaded entrances serve both to keep others out and to preserve the sisters' private world within. The story challenges our assumptions about normalcy, family, and social integration. Through Merricat's unfiltered perspective, we see how arbitrary and cruel social conventions can be, how communities create scapegoats to contain their own fears and insecurities. Yet the narrative refuses simple moral judgments. The sisters are simultaneously victims and perpetrators, damaged and damaging. Their response to persecution—retreat rather than revenge—ultimately grants them a strange victory. The villagers who once tormented them now leave offerings at their door, transforming persecution into a kind of reverence. In this inversion lies the story's most subversive idea: that sometimes refusing to participate in society's systems is the most radical act possible. The sisters' final happiness, strange as it may seem to conventional thinking, raises unsettling questions about whether true contentment can exist within social constraints at all.

About Author

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Shirley Jackson

Shirley Jackson was an influential American author. A popular writer in her time, her work has received increasing attention from literary critics in recent years. She has influenced such writers as Stephen King, Nigel Kneale, and Richard Matheson.She is best known for her dystopian short story, "The Lottery" (1948), which suggests there is a deeply unsettling underside to bucolic, smalltown America. In her critical biography of Shirley Jackson, Lenemaja Friedman notes that when Shirley Jackson's story "The Lottery" was published in the June 28, 1948, issue of The New Yorker, it received a response that "no New Yorker story had ever received." Hundreds of letters poured in that were characterized by, as Jackson put it, "bewilderment, speculation and old-fashioned abuse."Jackson's husband, the literary critic Stanley Edgar Hyman, wrote in his preface to a posthumous anthology of her work that "she consistently refused to be interviewed, to explain or promote her work in any fashion, or to take public stands and be the pundit of the Sunday supplements. She believed that her books would speak for her clearly enough over the years." Hyman insisted the darker aspects of Jackson's works were not, as some critics claimed, the product of "personal, even neurotic, fantasies", but that Jackson intended, as "a sensitive and faithful anatomy of our times, fitting symbols for our distressing world of the concentration camp and the Bomb", to mirror humanity's Cold War-era fears. Jackson may even have taken pleasure in the subversive impact of her work, as revealed by Hyman's statement that she "was always proud that the Union of South Africa banned The Lottery', and she felt that they at least understood the story".In 1965, Jackson died of heart failure in her sleep, at her home in North Bennington Vermont, at the age of 48.

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